Ride Like The Wind

I won't lie, we pretty much flew along over the fields and trails after Mass today. But when not going full tilt hell for leather and Devil take the hindmost, I worked on collection, posting trot and basic horsemanship.

Go on, Run at That Tree

Running at a tree and then galloping around it was pretty good fun; working on serpentines with minimal use of reins was maybe less so, but probably a more valuable exercise. And I won't discount the importance of galloping through the bucolic Mesquite trails of Olde Texas. Careful there, fella, don't get your eye gouged out!

See, That's What Happens

Thorns aside, it was good to simply explore the land on horseback, I find that relaxing, it clears the head. And think, not too long ago, almost within living memory, this county was only just settled, and even that might be stretching a point. But for all its lawlessness, and there was plenty, there weren't many Indian raids. In neighboring counties, sure, but not here. 

A Fairly Typical Tree

As I understand it, people think it was a kind of neutral zone, or "treaty area," which made it comparatively peaceful, as far as the tribes were concerned. Different story of course, if you were John Wesley Hardin.

Spot Hardin. Note, none of these people are in "The Band."

Harding shot and killed somewhere between 20 and 40 people, maybe more, before he was shot in an El Paso Saloon by lawman John Selman. Hardin had killed 8 men by the time he was 16 and I mentioned that to my friend who kindly lets me ride on his ranch. "The thing about him," he said, "is that he just wasn't sane."

It's more than conceivable, in fact it is likely, that Hardin rode through or very near the land I was riding on today. 

Mind how you go,

LSP

And This One's For Jeb!

As Jeb! folds gracefully back into the wing-back chair of the elite country club that you couldn't ever hope to join in a million years night we, here at Team LSP, think it only right to play his song, maybe for the last time. And if you notice any disharmony, or lack of energy, well, so be it.

Goodnight, Jeb!, you were awesome, except that you weren't.

LSP

Magnus!

The Trumpist juggernaut has steamrolled South Carolina, leaving the bow tie and tasseled loafer brigade of the GOP establishment choking and gasping for air as they gulp down a devil's brew of single malt and vicodin. Just to steady their nerves.

Many believe that Russian strongman, Vladimir Putin, is the New Constantine. Is Donald Trump the reincarnation of Pompey Magnus?!?

It appears that the age of the Gods is upon us. 

LSP

Marcus Borg is Dead

The world-renowned scholar, author, professor and theologian, Marcus Borg, is dead. He died last year; he is still dead, although his great thoughts live on.

Borg was a Christian who didn't believe that Jesus was God and rose from the dead, or perform any miracles. He didn't believe in the Bible either, for him it was just a myth, but he did believe in his new religion, Panentheism, which says that everything is God.

Panentheism

Penentheism is like pantheism, except that it has an "en" in the middle of it. It is not like Christianity, which is why Borg was made a Canon Theologian in the Episcopal Church and served at Trinity Cathedral, in Portland, Oregon.

The Jesus Seminar

Borg became a superstar for debunking Jesus' divinity on Robert Funk's celebrity Jesus Seminar, in which genius scholars played with colored beads and decided the Gospels weren't true. Once they'd said that a few times the Jesus Seminar wasn't famous anymore. 

Kahn and Funk

Robert Funk should not be confused with the former IMF NWO Illuminati financier, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, even though both of them were against Jesus.

A Typical Head on Mars

Like the Jesus Seminar, and possibly Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Marcus Borg is not famous anymore. But that might change, his head has been found on Mars.

Your Friend,

LSP

The Face of The Worldwide Anglican Non-Communion Found on Mars?

A mysterious monument on Mars may be evidence that the Worldwide Anglican Non-Communion (WANC), has gone "off-planet."

Startling images from Viking 1 revealed the shadowy likeness of a human face on Mars. An enormous head nearly two miles from end to end seemed to be staring back at the cameras from a region of the Red Planet called Cydonia.

However, more recent photos from the Mars Global Surveyor (MGS) and the Mars Orbital Camera (MOC) show what seems to be a broken down old hill. "It may look like a 'face' from a distance," said a member of the MGS team, "but when you get up close you can see it's just a free-standing eroded landform, like a butte or a mesa, like Middle Butte in Idaho. An apron of boulders around the base would make the climb difficult for a robot."

Others disagree. "Once adjusted for sun angle and natural erosion, the Viking photos show humanoid features, nose, eyes, mouth and nostrils," stated one expert, "The chances of that happening exceed a thousand billion billion to one (10^21 to 1). We are compelled to accept artificiality as the most reasonable explanation consistent with the a priori principle of scientific method."

Has science discovered the Face of WANC on Mars, or an eroded butte?

You, the reader, be the judge.

LSP

Spot The Defense Minister, Old But Gold

Trick question, they all are! I know, it's an old joke but somehow it seems weirdly relevant. Good luck, Europe.

God bless,

LSP

Keep Your Hat On!

How do you keep your cowboy hat on? Staples. But seriously, there you are, riding along, and you pick up a canter and then a gallop, which is great but you want to go further and faster, so you change gear and accelerate to a run. A fast full-tilt run across the open countryside, wind in your face, at one with the horse, the landscape blurring by on either side and then, oh no! your hat flies off. Not so awesome, eh?

Don't worry, it happens; the wind gets under the brim of the wretched hat and blows it off your head, and you have to stop everything to go back for the thing. But it doesn't have to be that way, all's not lost.

You can get a hat with a deep crown, unlike mine, and jam it on your head when you pick up speed. That may help, or you can attach a stampede string, or "chin strap," which will keep the hat on your head as long as you make sure the string's attached to the hat band. If you rely on bent cotter pins alone you might find that they straighten up under the pressure of the wind and off flies the hat as the string detaches.

Or you can try this. Turn down the sweatband at the back of the hat and discover that doing this makes a kind of suction, which grips the hat firmly onto your head, as if by magic. You can also pad out the sweatband to produce a tighter fit; that'd probably do in place of a string, but I haven't tried it.

If you want extra hat security, try using a string and the magic sweatband trick, it's worked for me. And if you're the kind of horseman that rides in a ball cap, you can attach it to your coat with a cord, paracord will do. When it comes off it dangles, annoyingly, but you don't lose it.

There. Problem, solution, and that's what this blog is all about.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Worldwide Anglican Non-Communion Update!!

There you are, scanning the perimeter at first light, ears wide open for the slightest noise, which is an utter waste of time because of the sheer din of hundreds of birds roosting in the trees. ISIS could launch an assault on the Compound and you wouldn't hear it coming. Thanks a lot, birds. Then there's there's the dogs, the roosters and the peacocks. Get some peace and quiet in the countryside, that's what they said. Right.

Mountebank

Speaking of peace and quiet, some of you may remember the Worldwide Anglican Non-Communion (WANC) and its recent Primates Meeting, sorry "gathering," in Canterbury. That disciplined the egregiously heterodox Episcopal Church (TEC) for a period of three years, declaring that the rich but shrinking denomination wouldn't be allowed to represent WANC or vote in its councils.

Gay "We're Going to Lusaka" Jennings

I say disciplined, but the sanction was really more of an unspecified threat. Don't represent or vote and if you do we'll do... something. Unsurprisingly, TEC, which is richer than a trainload of Nazi gold but smaller, has decided to ignore the warning shot and carry on as usual by announcing its intention to take its seat on the Anglican Consultative Council (ACC), and vote accordingly.

Tengatenga...

We know this because the improbably named Bishop Tengatenga, who mysteriously changed his mind about gay marriage and chairs the ACC, has told us. “Are they going to vote? Yes, they are going to vote as it is their right and responsibility,” announced Tengatenga to the Seminary of the South at Sewanee. And the consequences? According to Tengatenga, nothing at all,  “(The) bottom line is that the Episcopal Church cannot be kicked out of the Anglican Communion and will never be kicked out of the Anglican Communion.”

Eliud Wabukala

That's what Tengatenga thinks along with, presumably, the Episcopal Church's leadership. Expect them to turn up at the ACC's meeting in Lusaka next month, business as usual. We should also expect the conservative majority of Anglican primates to add teeth to their agreed sanctions. That's indicated in Archbishop Eliud Wabukala's pastoral letter, which you can read here.

Justsin Welby

Who knows, perhaps TEC will put the train in reverse and simply act as an observer at the same ACC it's bought and paid for, but don't bet on it. A safer bet by far is that WANC will become even more of a non-communion than it already is.

Good luck, Justsin.

LSP

Get on The Horse

You can be a sad determinist or some variety of Calvinist and believe that everything is preordained. I chose to exercise my freewill and went for a ride. Don't be a fatalist, I muttered grimly to myself, get on the horse.

We started off slowly, trotting along in the clear air of a crisp, sunny Texan morning and posted off down a trail in the Mesquite. As I understand it, posting trot isn't very "Western" but so what, it's good for the horse's back and the rider's sense of rhythm, to say nothing of muscles. They got a good workout.

After a little while it seemed right to open up and off we galloped, not too furiously but plenty fast enough. It's a great feeling, moving at speed with a horse through the countryside.

We finished with some uphill galloping, Go on! Up that hill! followed by a brisk trot back to the barn. I say barn, but it's more of a walk-in with a trailer doing duty as a tack room, and what's wrong with that? Nothing at all.

Ride over, I drove the country route to Waco, down 933, cleverly avoiding the heinous I35, and visited the sick in hospital. One of them's made a pretty miraculous recovery. I thank God for that. And remember, God's knowledge is necessary but it's also eternal and simultaneous, or present tense. 

That doesn't contradict free will. Speaking of which, I'll clean some guns after Stations of the Cross. There's nothing, ahem, predictable about that, at all.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Russians Love Obama

Those mischievous Russians are at it again. Do these pranksters know no shame?!? And is it true that smoking kills more people than Obama?

Carry on,

LSP

Hillary Clinton Barks Like a Dog

Here's Hillary, barking like a dog. Please, someone, indict this creature and get it back in the 'pound.

LSP

The Gun is Not a Pet

Guns aren't pets to be looked at, stroked and patted on the head, even if you do love them. No, they're tools, machines built with a purpose and made to be used. With that in mind, a friend came over from Dallas and we drove out to the range with a truckload of guns.

A Pet

First things first, see if my pal's Remington semi .22 was dialed in. It wasn't but the scope was soon put to rights. The Ruger American was right on and the more I shoot it the more I like it. Handy little bolter.

Some Guns

An old Winchester pump .22 did just fine too, handily taking down some steel plates and a small silhouette at 100 yards. I like that gun, and there was nothing wrong with an AR, either. Well done, Spikes Tactical, Fortis, Ballistic Advantage and Primary Arms. Put the dot on the target and off you go.

Dial it In

And then there's Glock. Some people scorn them, "they're rubbish." I disagree, a right workhorse of a pistol and all business. Breathe, squeeze the trigger, take down the plate, or whatever. For some reason I shot better at 30 yards than I did at 15. Weird, but true.

Some Old Guy With a Gun(s)

We finished off by blasting a plastic water container down the range with a single shot Boita (?) .20 gauge. Big fun.

So now you know. Happy Presidents Day.

LSP

Presidents Day!

Here's a helpful infographic for Presidents Day, see if you can spot the odd men out.  While you reflect on that, ponder another mystery. Turkey's Mad Sultan, Erdogan, is shelling Syian army and Kurdish positions near Aleppo as Saudi Arabia flies planes into Incirlik for raids against Assad forces.

Some think that the Mad Sultan and his friends will invade Syria to protect their ISIS proxy army and lift the siege of Aleppo. Russia, presumably, will run away like a scolded cat.  Or, on the other hand, it will destroy the crazed Sultan's invading phalanx and shoot down Saudi Arabia's airforce. Which course of action do you think Russian President, Vladimir Putin, is most likely to take?

As this drama plays out in the hot sands of the Levant, Blue Eschaton guards the Compound against the impending apocalypse and I'm off to the range for some small arms practice.

Never trust a hippy,

LSP

Temptation in the Wilderness, Giant Donkey

In today's Gospel, Christ is tempted by Satan in the wilderness, at the peak of which he's taken to the top of a mountain and shown all the kingdoms of the world. "All this power will I give thee, and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me; and to whomsoever I will I give it," says Satan, who continues with the proviso, "If thou therefore wilt worship me, all shall be thine."

What we see here is an inverse or anti-Sinai. On the holy mountain Moses is given the divine law, to love and worship the true God and him alone, and to love our neighbor. On the Devil's mountain we're told to worship the false God, Satan, and to indulge ourselves. The temptations begin with the latter, "Command this stone that it be made bread."

I took that as an opportunity to preach on fasting, for the first time ever, or at least for any length, and can't recall ever hearing a sermon on the subject. A serious omission; after all, if it's good enough for Christ, it's good enough for Christians, and by it we wage a kind of war against concupiscence and our disordered passions and appetites. Those of you who know what it's like in LSPland will understand that I was preaching to myself. 

After the Masses I went for a ride and one of the Troop rode a donkey, most definitely the biggest donkey I've ever seen. It was a right giant of a beast.

What a fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Follow The Unicorn

The Unicorn is a cuddly, velvety beast, full of rapturous promise and delight. "Follow me, over the rainbow of dreams," whinnies the playful creature and off we go in search of a glittering crockfull of utopia, led on by our scampering, frolicking, horned friend.

And what a crock it is. "Disband your armies and there will be no war," promises our frisky playmate; "Abolish private property and everyone will be rich!" neighs the winsome quadruped; "The more you're taxed the more prosperous you'll be," assures our plush pal with reverent surety, "It's settled science, and haven't you heard? The best thing about debt is that it never has to be repaid, ever!"

Off we go, gleefully climbing the rainbow to a paradise on earth, where Islam is a religion of peace and everyone will be able to get a sex-change gratis on the State because the Government is Your Best Friend Forever. So hand in your guns and there'll be no more crime, the Unicorn said so.

It's a beautiful dreamlike journey. But the problem with the Unicorn is that it's a sociopath nihilist with a nasty habit of destroying everything that it's drumming little hooves come into contact with, to say nothing of its horn, which invariably stabs its enchanted followers. 

Disband your armies? Too bad no one remembered to tell Hitler. Abolish private property? Go right ahead and ask a Kulak, except that you can't because the Worker's Paradise killed them all. More tax? Of course that'll make everyone richer, working on the good old principle that the less money you have the wealthier you'll become. And debt notoriously never has to be paid, unlike the Government, which never has enough. 

Still, at least you'll be free to get gender reassignment surgery while the peace-loving followers of Islam rape you in Cologne. And don't even think of trying to defend yourself because that would make you less safe, obviously.

Notice how the logic of the Unicorn produces the exact opposite of its intended result. It promises peace, freedom, prosperity and happiness for all and gives the reverse. It is a peddler of lies, warfare, tyranny, misery, hatred and destruction. 

Follow it, by all means, but ask yourself if it's really a unicorn you're chasing and not some other horned god. And when you get to the crock at the end of the rainbow, don't be surprised when you find out that it contains something other than gold.

Your Old Friend,

LSP